A Certain Shade of Green
by LubthaNiBriste
Summary: "No one understood her. Addiction wasn't simple. Her lover didn't understand, and he claimed to be all-knowing. Her daughter—her beautiful, intelligent daughter—had called her selfish. The kid had seemed to happily await her mother's death." One-shot. Could be considered Zeus/Ms. Grace. Rated M for adult themes.


**A Certain Shade of Green**

A beautiful blonde woman sat behind the wheel of a sleek black Mercedes, barely managing to keep her eyes open. She grumbled beneath her breath in frustration, cursing at some homely minivan that cut in front of her. One of her hands nursed a bottle of gin, the other hung loosely on the leather steering wheel. She glanced into the back, spotting the worn car seat that had never left the vehicle.

Her teal eyes blinked sleepily as she turned her gaze to the road in front of her. Tears slowly slid down her flushed cheeks, but she didn't make an attempt to wipe them away. She hardly noticed when she cried anymore. So many things in her thirty years of living had caused her both emotional and physical pain.

She tipped the bottle for the millionth time that night and chugged down the bitter liquid. Gin wasn't usually as bitter or potent as the bourbon she drank, but all alcohol tasted unbearable to her now. Alcohol had been the reason her life turned for the worse. She could have blamed it on her fleeting lover or her missing children, but she knew it was all ultimately her fault.

Gin, wine, Scotch, cocktail, and vodka—the temptresses—had haunted her from her childhood. Her Irish father had stereotypically been a heavy drinker. Unlike most alcoholics, he had been extremely violent. There was always news in the media of some child or wife being beaten by the "man of the house," but it wasn't like that at all in reality. No other child she had grown up around knew what it was like for her. None had it as bad. Abuse wasn't a common thing, at least not the abuse she and her sisters received.

Coming to school every day in bruises wasn't normal. A girl masking her face in pounds of her mother's makeup in order to hide cuts wasn't normal. Everyone had been oblivious. Everyone still was.

She had started drinking at a young age. Ever since the sinful drink had entered her body on her thirteenth birthday, she hadn't managed to ditch the addiction. She could go a few months without drinking if she were really, really determined, but she would forever resort to it. Eventually, she would stumble to her weakened knees, pleading to Dionysus for her dismantling savior.

No one understood her. Addiction wasn't simple. No one could ever realize what she went through every time she indulged in her sinful desires. Her lover didn't understand, and he claimed to be all-knowing. Her daughter—her beautiful, intelligent daughter—had called her selfish. The kid had seemed to happily await her mother's death.

The dark-haired kid was so much like her father. The girl was proud, charming, yet unforgiving. She had distanced herself from the rest of them whenever she was angered, locking herself in her room to blare her obnoxious punk rock music. Her father, although he was sterner than a wolf, had been a fan of all music. The girl had listened to everything he told her, and took after him in almost every way possible. Her daughter…she couldn't even bear to say her name.

Another sip granted her the bravery.

"Thalia."

Thalia, her sweet darling girl. The young child, despite what she thought, had resembled her mother. She had been rebellious and sarcastic, and absolutely convinced that she could make no mistake. Thalia's adorable freckles and brilliant smile had reflected a much younger picture of the blonde. The kid had been so caring and nurturing, but only when no one else happened to be looking.

On the outside, she was easily fueled by her anger. Thalia began to lash out at school and hurt others. She had skipped her classes, preferring to spend her time on the streets with her older friends.

The blonde would admit that she wasn't the fairest towards her children, Thalia in particular. When her daughter began to act out, she reacted in the only way she knew how—through abuse. Seraphina remembered the feel of her shaky palm sweeping past chubby, freckled cheeks. Sometimes, when she was all on her own, she could hear the cries and whimpers of her pained baby girl.

The blonde tried to stay away from the house. It was haunted with spirits that had never died. Her son's crib sat dusty in his older sister's old room. Thalia had moved it into her room once she had spotted one of her mother's boyfriends sneaking up to her little brother. Oh, and of course posters of rock bands littered the pale blue walls—anything from Green Day and the Ramones to Rage Against the Machine. Her bed was still in a mess, the childish Winnie the Pooh Bear comforter strewn across its surface.

It was too much. It was all too much.

Seraphina hated that she had chosen her greatest weakness over the things she loved most. She hated how much she had messed up. She hated the mistakes she had made.

She wished she could have spent more time with her children. Drinker or not, she was their mother. They were her own beautiful, young children…and now they were both gone.

From the time of young Jason's birth, Seraphina had been warned that she wouldn't get to spend much time with him. Zeus—yes, Zeus, King of Olympus and mighty Greek god—had bargained_ their _own son in order to appease his vindictive wife.

Seraphina slammed on the brakes, muttering nonsensical slurs as she flipped off the driver in front of her that had suddenly halted. Tears continued to flow, now freely, down her face. They fogged her vision slightly, but she only took another sip.

Despite knowing that Jason didn't have very long with them, the blonde had allowed Thalia to grow close to her brother. The two of them had done everything together. The boy had cried every time his sister would dare to leave the house to go to school. Thalia would laugh, ruffle his nearly platinum blond hair, and then promise him that she would return and they would be back together again.

The poor girl couldn't have been farther from the truth.

If there were anything in the world that Seraphina had the option to change, it would be the way she had treated the two of them. Maybe she wouldn't have been so reliant on her lover, demanding that he grant her eternal life. Her life at home should've been enough for her. She could have been happy. They could have been happy.

Thalia had run away shortly after Jason's disappearance. Seraphina should have suspected that her daughter didn't care enough to stay. She had broken the girl's trust long before then. The bond that had once been shared between them—when Thalia was just an innocent toddler waddling through their spacious living room—had shattered upon impact.

She wasn't so sure she deserved love. Zeus hadn't truly loved her, even if he had claimed to. Thalia had stopped loving her. Jason never really got the opportunity to, but she was positive that he would have loathed her as well. Depression and restless nights plagued her. With every questioning thought that slowly sank into her mind, she grew more and more hopeless. Was she not meant for love? Was this the price she was forced to pay for falling in love with a powerful, married man?

Seraphina had been head-over-heels for the god. She had loved him. Her feelings for him had run deeper than any of her feelings ever had. Even her hatred towards her father didn't quite stand up to her infatuation. The feelings had been far from mutual.

She had grown up in a world where she was told she was unwanted, cheap, used. All of her life she had felt so worthless and vulnerable. Her father—Seamus Grace, an immigrant from the old country—had made her and her sisters believe they weren't worth anyone. The one boy she had dated in high school had been chased away from her. Her father had lumbered after Tommy Pfeiffer with a running chainsaw, screaming Gaelic profanities.

She could practically hear him now.

"_Imeacht gan teacht ort! Go hlfreann leat!" _

Abigail, her mother, was really no better. The woman had never beaten her but she would sit back and watch, not bothering to do anything when her father was once again having another drunken fit. Seraphina was the youngest, and surprisingly had received a good amount of punishment. Everything that went wrong in her father's life had somehow traced back to her.

As she turned onto a dark road, she realized that she had treated Thalia in a similar manner. Zeus had left the first time when Thalia had been almost three, and Seraphina had been driven mad. Finally, someone had come into her life and seemed to actually love her. Yet he only left, just like everyone else. Naturally, she resorted to drinking, and then began to blame her daughter for everything. The first day she hurt her girl was the last time she felt like herself.

How could she dare harm Thalia the way she was harmed? She never wanted that kind of life for her daughter, but that was just what she had given. She could see Thalia now: face drawn straight in apathy, scared to care and hesitant to be herself.

Zeus once again came along and changed all of that, like some kind of treacherous knight in rusted armor. He pitied her plight, he had said. It was sickening the way she had fell for it all again. After having such a rough time, she should've been more reluctant to let him draw her back under his spell. Unfortunately, she had never been too intelligent when it came to…well, anything really. She had aspired to be an actress, not a rocket scientist.

Seraphina barely managed to swerve out of a semi's way, not noticing that she had drifted slowly into the opposite lane. She blinked her eyes with difficulty, willing herself to pay attention. Admittedly, her tipsy state made every task more trying than it would usually be.

Hera. Hera had Jason. Hera had Zeus. It wouldn't be long before the vengeful goddess got her grubby paws on Thalia. Seraphina's grip tightened on the wheel as she considered the possibility.

Getting protective wouldn't get her anywhere. She had lost her chance to do so years before. She didn't have the right to long for Thalia's presence. But gods, she missed her. The blonde could barely recall any of the good times they shared.

There had been occasions when she would awake to find her adorable toddler leaping on Zeus' side of the queen sized bed. Thalia had loved climbing out of her crib and hiding behind corners to surprise people. She had been such a wonderful baby, full of joy and life. Seraphina would never forgive herself for ruining that.

She hoped wherever her daughter was, she was happy. Seraphina only wished for Thalia to be joyful once again. The girl deserved to live a life of smiles and laughter, and all other good and pure things in the world. Thalia deserved much more than her mother did.

Jason had been quieter, and more reserved as a baby. Unfortunately, she hadn't spent much of her time with him. She was far too preoccupied with her boyfriend Jim Bean. Thalia had taken care of him, sprinkling him with love and praise.

Seraphina just wanted to see them. She wanted to apologize. Shaking off that line of thought, she pressed the gas pedal harder. She would never see them again. And, even if she managed to by some freak occurrence, she knew she wouldn't apologize. She was far too self-centered for that. She would somehow convince herself that she had done no wrong.

The blonde was gaining speed, not paying the speedometer any mind. Her alcohol-riddled brain ached and thumped with her rapid thoughts. As she reached out for the bottle again, she let her eyes slip from the wet, slippery road.

Lights shone in her direction, and she glanced up just in time to see a large truck heading for her. The vehicle was too close to stop its movement, and she was far too numb to avoid the accident. Honks sounded from all around, and she couldn't help but wonder what the point of it was. Why did they bother to alert her? Those idiots didn't know what kind of monster they were attempting to warn.

Many times in her life she had contemplated dying. Never had she tried suicide, but she had wanted to. She wasn't worth anything, just as her father had taught. She had been, at one time. Now that she didn't have Thalia or Jason, she wasn't worth a lick. They were her everything, and she hadn't realized it until it was too late.

Even though she felt like she had no purpose anymore, she couldn't help but think about how much she _didn't _want to die. Seraphina, on some level, did want to pass over. But, something was still holding her back.

She would never get the chance to look into her daughter's bright blue eyes again. Jason would never learn the comfort of her arms. Thalia would grow into a gorgeous young woman, and she wouldn't be there to witness it. Her two powerful kids were going to become great heroes one day. Their father would take immense pride in them. They would move on without their mother, as if she had never existed. As if she had never ruined their lives.

Her eyes brimmed with burning tears, but they never spilled over.

The truck collided with her convertible, sending the car spiraling. The driver's side of the car was rammed, and she wasn't conscious to feel her body being trapped in between the center console and door. Metal sliced at her skin. Her car spun off the road and finally came to a rest.

She would have loved to have died while unconscious, but the gods weren't generous. Her eyes flickered open, the pain registering past the numbing sensation of alcohol. She groaned, and blood spilled from the corner of her mouth. Slowly, she glanced down towards the source of her pain. A shard of metal—she wasn't sure what part of her car it had come from—was buried in her stomach.

Her heart constricted, and her throat felt tight. Her mouth was dried out, and she had trouble believing that she was still somewhat living. She firmly pulled the shard from her body, screaming in agony. It wasn't huge, but it was sizable. Her eyes burned as she glanced down at her bloody flesh. Sobs wracked her lithe body, and she couldn't bring herself to stop.

Why couldn't she have been granted a quick death? Why must she continue to suffer so?

Sirens wailed. Police cars and ambulances filled the road and grass around her. She couldn't make out any of their faces as they approached her car, circling around it like a bunch of curious pups.

This was how she was going to die? With no family to love her and no will to live on? Seraphina felt her eyes droop. She was going to rest eternally, just as she had desired. After moving her mouth and whimpering slightly, she managed to find her croaky voice.

"Gods have mercy," she stated, coughing violently as she continued to bleed out in the car.

Paramedics pulled at the doors, trying to get them to open. They would be too late. Her heart slowed to a stop before they wrenched open the side of the car. They pulled at her corpse, setting her on some kind of stretcher. They moved her hurriedly away from the scene of the accident, as if that would make matters any better. After running procedure, they announced her passing.

The bottle of gin was cracked, but still intact on the passenger floorboard.

The very thing that had fueled her life in the beginning wound up destroying it in the end.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, it was pretty melodramatic, huh? This was loosely inspired by a song. It is in no means a song-fic. But, anyway, I was trying to write something else and this was the end result. I'll admit that it was weakening as it progressed and it's a bit scattered. It jumps around a bit, and I hope that wasn't a hindrance to the read. Please feel free to drop a review and let me know what you thought of it. **

***For curious readers, the Gaelic (a certain branch of it, anyway) translation is _roughly_: "May you leave without returning! To hell with you!"***


End file.
